


Five Dates: Harry and Pansy

by smithandbarrowman



Series: Five Dates [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 22:48:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16649332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithandbarrowman/pseuds/smithandbarrowman
Summary: Five years before Hermione and Draco's crazy dating game, Harry met Pansy, and their own game began.





	Five Dates: Harry and Pansy

 

* * *

 

***** FIVE YEARS EARLIER *****

* * *

 

***** HARRY *****

* * *

 

"Look out," Ron said. He was looking past me, his face a mixture of surprise and amusement. "What's she up to?"

I turned in my seat, following the direction he was looking, and my surprise matched his.

Hermione had sent us both owls that morning, telling us to meet her at the pub after work. She had a surprise for us, she had said. And she wasn't wrong. I knew she had been hatching a plan to have us become more socially friendly with our former school rivals, but I hadn't been made aware that her plan had already been put into action. But apparently tonight was the night, since she was heading our way with Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass in tow.

Tucking my surprised face away, I smiled as they all approached. Hermione kissed my cheek and hugged Ron, then sat down.

"I brought some friends." She said cheerfully and then shook her head at the two women lingering beside the table, as if waiting for permission to sit with us. "Sit down, ladies, they're pretty decent guys. They only bite sometimes."

"Hermione," I groaned and stood, smiling at the pair, holding my hand out indicating the empty seats, "Please ignore her and join us."

They both nodded, Pansy avoiding looking me in the eye.

"Hey," I said, ducking my head to look at her, "There are no hard feelings here. It's all in the past."

"Sorry," She said quietly, "Really, I am."

"And you're forgiven," I assured her, " _Really_ , you are."

I pulled out the chair next to mine, noting that Daphne had already taken the place beside Ron. I also couldn't help but notice the red tinge creeping along my friend's neck, and made a mental note to ask him about it later.

Waiting until she finally sat down, I resumed my seat, frowning slightly at just how nervous Pansy was. Her spine was straight and she was looking everywhere but at me. It was so unlike the forceful woman I knew her to be.

An awkward silence fell over the table, and Hermione shook her head.

"Come on," She said, "Pans, Daphne, _we're_ friends and these two aren't any different from me, well not really. We're all adults now, this shouldn't be this weird."

Ron cleared his throat, glancing quickly at Daphne, "She's right. What happened, happened, we can't change it."

Daphne and Pansy shared a look, both realising that we were being completely honest; there was no animosity here, not any more.

"We are still sorry for everything that happened though," Daphne said.

"We know," I said with a nod, "And that's the end of it." I turned to the bar, waiting to catch the bartender's eye and held up four fingers. He nodded and I watched as four tumblers floated over to us. Ginny would be here any minute to join us, and since we'd only just become friends again, I didn't want to piss her off by not having a drink on the table for her when she arrived.

"Neville was pretty pleased with them," Hermione was saying when I turned back to the table, the glasses filling in front of each of them. "They were his first ever batch, and even though we had a dozen potion makers wanting them, he insisted that St Mungos get them."

"Well, he's a genius," Pansy told her, "The potion makers were going bonkers at the quality of them."

"He'll love hearing that," Hermione beamed.

Hermione and Neville had been in business together for just a few months, but already they were fast becoming known in potion-making circles. Neville had shrugged off his wimpy reputation with his actions during the Battle of Hogwarts, and with Hermione being the world's favourite witch, they had caused quite the stir.

"So how _are_ things over at St Mungos?" I asked.

Her shoulders tensed slightly and she looked at me with a nervous smile, " _Ah,_ yeah. It's good."

I flicked my eyes quickly to Hermione, who was looking at Pansy with a questioning expression. She was obviously thinking the same as I was. Pansy Parkinson was not shy and quiet, she was one to push boundaries and to speak her mind. In all the years we had known her, she had never held back. We could not possibly be making her nervous. _Could we?_

Daphne, on the other hand had managed to garner Ron's complete attention. The pair talking like they had been friends for years, not newly acquainted former rivals. They seemed a little too friendly, and it was completely suspicious, and it would be one more thing I would have to ask him about.

"I hear they have some of the best potion makers around." I tried again.

"They do." She nodded, but she still kept her response short. "They're amazing."

"And you never wanted to work for Malfoy?" It was the right question, she finally gave us a glimpse of the Pansy we had grown up with.

She snorted and rolled her eyes, "Merlin, no. He'd be a shit boss. Too much of a control freak for my liking."

"Who's a control freak?" Ginny asked pulling out the chair beside Hermione and sitting down heavily. She reached for the glass in front of her, downing half of it and then nodding at me. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," I smiled at her, she looked exhausted. I was concerned, but not in the way I used to be. She was simply now my friend.

It had taken some time to adjust, months in fact had gone by before we could even be in the same room together, but once we had both realised that we hadn't been fair to each other, that it wasn't really love that either of us felt, just lust and teenage angst, and being blinded by the impending war, we were able to become friends again, with a much deeper understanding of each other.

"Malfoy," Hermione explained to Ginny, "Harry was asking why Pansy didn't want to work for him."

"Control freak perfectionist?" Ginny asked.

"Something like that." Pansy let out a small laugh, and then added, "Actually, that's exactly it."

"We should ask him to join us next week. That'd shock a few people." Ginny said with a chuckle, "Unless, that is, he's too busy with some random bint."

"Gin," I warned and looked at Daphne, who simply shook her head and waved my concern away.

"They were never going to be anything," she said, "My sister is far too wild for him. I have no idea why his parents thought they would be a good match. Or my parents for that matter."

Daphne's sister Astoria and Malfoy had been together for almost three years, and in what was shock to everyone but Astoria and Draco - and apparently Daphne - they split just two months ago. She instantly headed off across the world, and he buried himself in work...and anyone who was female and willing.

"I thought arranged marriages were a thing of the past," Hermione said.

Pansy shrugged, "They are, but Lucius and Narcissa are still living there. It's why Draco barely sees them anymore. He's pissed at them for interfering."

"Wow," Ginny's eyes went wide and she looked between Daphne and Pansy, "He's written them off?"

Daphne nodded, "Pretty much. The war changed a lot of things, but Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy and their pureblood beliefs wasn't one of them."

"Shit," I muttered, "I never would have dreamed that would have happened."

"No one did," Pansy shrugged and then her eyes flared, anger simmering just below the surface. "He's better off without them. They're fucking cunts, the pair of them."

She slapped her hand over her mouth and looked around the table, a muffled apology sounding from behind her hand. Ginny started to laugh, as did Ron. Even Hermione giggled, despite her absolute dislike of _that_ word.

"No, don't apologise. That's a pretty accurate description," Ron told her and laughed louder.

I poked her playfully in the ribs, "There's the Pansy Parkinson we all know and love."

Her cheeks flushed pink and she looked down at her lap, muttering, "I really shouldn't say words," which just made us laugh more.

"Oh, come on. The fact that you called them exactly what we think of them, is perfect." Ginny said through her laughter, "And don't ever stop saying words, because words like that make us laugh."

Looking around the table Pansy winced, "Yeah, but I should probably know you all better before I drop _that_ word around you all."

I waved her comment away, "It's fine. Ron says it constantly."

Her gaze shifted to Ron, who was nodding and grinning like a lunatic. "It's one of my favourites. Always good to drop it when the reporters are chasing you."

She laughed; a sound so pretty, so melodic in my ears, that my heart began to suddenly thump wildly behind my ribs. I shifted in my seat, lifting my drink to my mouth, willing the heat in my chest to stop crawling up my own neck. Ron was saying something else to her, but I had no idea what; the noise around me had turned to a hazy blur and her face was all I could see.

Her face. Her face which I once thought puggish had softened over the years since the war. The harsh, drawn look that she carried throughout her youth had gone, and the sweet smile she now wore as her nerves slowly vanished made her prettier than I had ever truly noticed.

Her dark shoulder-length hair and the delight in her green-brown eyes had me swallowing my drink quickly in an attempt to keep myself composed and to stop the very dirty thoughts of what I suddenly wanted to do with her from spilling out of my mouth.

I had only seen her on the odd occasion since we'd finished school. She had been one of the rare few who had gone back to complete her studies, and for the entire year I had seen her in our classes, and that had been it. She had remained hidden, a seemingly self-imposed exile, possibly out of fear of retribution from those of us she thought she had wronged.

And at the time, she may have been correct. I wasn't particularly interested in her, nor Malfoy, nor Daphne. Nor any of them really. Forgiveness had been something I hadn't been willing to give easily, and especially not to those who would have been delighted - had it happened - at our downfall.

Hermione - rational, sensible, treated-like-crap, tortured-beyond-belief, Hermione - had all but slapped the back of my head and told me to grow up. She had told me that there was no way I could move on with anything in my life if I couldn't forgive them. She reminded me that Malfoy hadn't given us up in The Manor. And Pansy had been so easily led by those around her, she might have needed our forgiveness to see her through what was most likely one of the toughest things she'd ever done and returned to school amongst everyone she once hated.

And now, sitting beside her, I understood exactly what Hermione meant. Pansy was a force, she had the ability to defend herself, and she clearly spoke her mind. But the show of nerves, the hesitation to join us, the embarrassment of letting her thoughts be known, had proven my friend correct.

For all her bravado, Pansy Parkinson _was_ vulnerable. She was unsure, and clearly, she was still battling with the guilt of what had happened all those years ago. And maybe that was why I was now seeing her in a different light.

She was attractive, very much so, and I was disappointed in myself for not recognising it before now. Our few interactions in the last year or two, had been short and to the point, and I had walked away from her without giving her another thought.

But how wrong I had been.

I should have stopped and talked with her, should have gotten to know her, should have given her more than a curt nod and a strained hello. The courage it had taken for her to turn up here, even with Daphne in tow, was enormous, and my respect for her increased tenfold, as had my want to get to know her better.

And I was completely astounded that after just ten minutes in her presence, I was having to think of very cold things.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice broke through my thoughts, "Are you listening?"

"Sorry, what?" I looked around at them all, realising I had zero clues as to what they had been talking about.

Ginny's eyes flicked quickly to Pansy and then back to me. She grinned, looking at me as if she knew exactly what I had been thinking. "Dark Lord in your head again? Or is it someone else this time?"

I rubbed the scar on my forehead and laughed, nervously, "No Dark Lords in here. Just..." I shook my head and looked at Pansy and then at Daphne, "Sorry, very rude of me to zone out. It's been a long week."

"Hey, I work at St Mungos, I know all about long weeks." Pansy smiled and I breathed a little easier. She seemed to have bought my lie.

"Still rude of me." I pressed my palms together in front of me and gave her a pleading look, "Forgive me?"

"It's not enough that you're the chosen one, you're a comedian too?" She arched a sinister eyebrow in my direction.

I laughed and turned back to Hermione, "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"We thought Draco could join us next week. Are you okay with that?"

"Sure, why not?" I shrugged and then grinned at her, "Will Miles be joining us also?"

Hermione's cheeks flushed pink and she squirmed in her seat. None of us would have believed that she would have ever considered seeing a Quidditch player, but two months ago Miles Bletchley had apparently swept her completely off her feet.

"Maybe," She said, still blushing, "I'll check with him. He may have practice."

"Oh, the life of a Quidditch girlfriend." Ginny ribbed her.

"And your Quidditch _boyfriend_ is where tonight?" Hermione countered and Ginny's blush matched hers.

I grinned at Ginny's embarrassment. Blaise Zabini had been somewhat of a constant shadow in her life of late. When she wasn't playing Quidditch, she was a reporter for The Daily Prophet, and she had been forced to interview both Malfoy and him in a public interest piece on what the survivors of the war were now up to. And since then, he had shown up to all of her matches, had been - as Hermione informed us - sending her daily owls, and had even invited her to dinner several times, to which she was yet to say yes to.

We had gotten to know him reasonably well, his constant appearances at Ginny's matches left us with no other alternative. And what we had discovered was that Zabini was so nonchalant about everything in life that he wasn't even a purist and blood status meant nothing to him. There was no jealousy on my part when it came to his pursuit of Ginny, but my protective instincts kicked in and I was wary of his reputation. He had, however, proven himself. He had been patient, had been observant, had eyes only for her.

"Shut up," Ginny said and shoved at Hermione's shoulder, "Blaise is _not_ my boyfriend. He's just my friend."

"Yeah, _right_." Hermione drawled and then looked back at me, "So, Malfoy next week. Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." I nodded. "In comparison to these two hard-arsed snakes, Malfoy will be a fluffy bunny."

Pansy folded her arms across her chest and scowled. "If we're making you uncomfortable, we can leave, Potter."

I winced internally. Her words came out harshly, and I couldn't tell if she was joking or not. Her spine had stiffened again, and her face had turned to stone, so I had to assume the latter.

"Pansy, sorry. I meant it as a joke." I told her, but I knew it was too late. She had shut down again, and I wanted to punch myself. I had already noticed she was on edge, and I had to go and push it too far.

"Whatever, Potter." She stood and looked at Hermione, "See you on Wednesday?"

"Of course," Hermione said, but she was looking at me. _Glaring_ at me. And I definitely knew I had gone too far.

"Pansy, wait." I called, but she didn't look back.

"Well done, idiot. She was terrified of coming and you made it worse." Ginny said shaking her head in disgust. "Chase her and apologise."

I was out of my seat and across the room in seconds, following Pansy through the door. "Pansy, wait, please." I pleaded with her.

She stopped and turned around. Her face was still like a stone, but her eyes couldn't hide the genuine hurt.

"I'm sorry. I really am." I said, "It was really brave of you to come tonight, and I shouldn't have been so thoughtless and made an idiotic joke like that."

"We don't have to come if you don't want us here. You zoned out for like ten minutes, Potter." she said quietly, "I know what Hermione is trying to do, and I'm happy to be her friend. But if _you're_ not interested in being friends, that's fine. I won't come here again."

I wanted to reach out and touch her, to comfort her, but instead I nervously shoved my hands in my pockets. "No, I want for us to be friends. I meant it when I said we'd all forgiven you. And my having a tiring week at work is no excuse for me to be rude."

"You say _we've_ forgiven you. But have _you_ forgiven me?" She asked, "Have you really forgiven me? You say you have, but I can't tell. I don't mind you joking around, Potter, but I don't know you yet, and I have no idea if you're _actually_ joking, or if there's still some truth to your words."

I clenched my fists in my pockets. _Fuck._ I had really screwed this up.

"Pansy, of course I have forgiven you. There's no point in holding onto old grudges." I pulled my hand from my pocket and scratched absently at my scar. "I don't want to forget the past, but I also don't want to dwell on it."

She said nothing, just stared back at me.

"I know how nervous you were tonight, but do you have any idea just how nervous we all were?" I rubbed my suddenly sweaty palm on my thigh, "Hermione has been talking about this for months. We know Blaise, since he comes and watches Ginny all the time. But you and Daphne and Malfoy? Do you have any idea how intimidating you are?"

"Intimidating?" Her eyes went wide, searching my face, waiting for me to make another joke.

"Yes. Intimidating." I wanted to laugh at her expression, but I tamped it down, knowing laughing would just piss her off again. "Pansy Parkinson. Forceful, sure and not afraid to speak her mind. Intimidating as all hell."

She shook her head, "I think you're talking about Hermione."

I moved closer to her, daring to squeeze her shoulder gently, "The two of you are the same. And I'm sorry. I won't make any more jokes until you know me better."

"Thank you, but I don't think I'm the same as Hermione She's a genius. I don't even come close."

"Don't sell yourself short, Pansy. From what I hear about you, St Mungos is lucky to have you."

"Thank you. I'm good at what I do, but she's in a league of her own." She gave me a small smile, "Good night, Harry."

She moved to walk away but I stopped her. "You will be here next week?"

"Do you _want_ me here next week?"

"Yes, Pansy. I definitely want you here next week."

She simply nodded and then took a step back, disappearing instantly. I stood staring at the place she just left and let out a shaky breath, berating myself; I was the one who shouldn't be saying words. Why it was that I still turned into a blithering idiot around women confounded me. I was no longer a teenager, I was a grown man. I was an Auror. I had fought a Dark Lord, for fuck's sake. But put an attractive woman in front of me and I lost all ability to function and turned into an idiot.

I slid my fingers under my glasses and pressed hard against my eyes, not knowing what the hell had happened. Was it even possible to just look at someone and instantly feel something for them? I didn't think so, but after tonight, everything I thought I knew had changed. And even more so, I doubted that Pansy would even say more than two words to me again.

Slowly exhaling, I looked back over my shoulder at the pub. There was no way I was going back in there. They would be relentless, and after already feeling like a dick for how I behaved around Pansy - and Daphne â€“ and I didn't need them to make me feel any worse.

Stepping forward, I stood on the exact spot she had just vacated and allowed myself a rueful laugh. I couldn't even follow her; I had no idea where she lived.

"Idiot." I cursed myself under my breath and felt the pull as I disapparated away.

* * *

 

***** PANSY *****

* * *

 

"What the hell is going on with you, Parkinson?" Ginny said stepping out of my fireplace. "I thought you had a spine of steel."

" _Ah_ , good morning?" I said. I was slightly shocked that she was in my house. More shocked that she had simply just dropped in unannounced.

Yes, we had been socialising more, but I wouldn't have necessarily called us friends. Not yet, anyway. Two months wasn't a long time, and despite their assurances that all had been forgiven, I was still unsure as to whether they were playing some Gryffindor game of retaliation. But apparently time was irrelevant to Ginny Weasley, and forgiveness meant exactly that.

She plopped down next to me on the couch and put her feet up. "Good morning. What's going on?"

I looked around my living room and then held my palms up, "I was enjoying the quiet, drinking my coffee and going through some work stuff."

She patted my arm and smiled at me like I was a dim-witted fool. "Parkinson, that's lovely. But why aren't you and Harry enjoying a Sunday morning in bed?"

My cheeks flamed, and I looked down at my lap. _Shit_. I thought I'd kept my feelings hidden; clearly, I was wrong.

For two months I had endured my worst nightmare; Friday nights in the pub with the Gryffindors. It was casual and relaxed and we laughed, but on the inside, I was a mess. I was having to shove my feelings aside and put on a mask each and every week to hide how I really felt. I had been terrified that they - he - would notice. And I hated myself for acting like I was. Usually if I wanted something, nothing would stop me from getting it, but this was different. This was Harry Potter.

I had considered talking to Daphne, considered confessing all my feelings, but I had sensed that she had her own issues to deal with when it came to Ronald Weasley. She wasn't hiding her feelings any more than I was.

There was Hermione, but she was his best friend. They had been through hell together, and even though she was the one who was pushing for us all to be friends, I wasn't sure if she would truly want me to pursue him.

And now, here was Ginny Weasley, his former girlfriend, the one person I was most concerned about, sitting on my couch on a Sunday morning, asking me why I wasn't in bed with him.

They had been the darlings of Hogwarts. The darlings of the entire wizarding world. Potter and Weasley. Weasley and Potter. Their faces had been everywhere. The Chosen One and his sweetheart; an apparent match made in heaven. Of course, when they split it had been a shock, but with that shock came a glimmer of hope. Hope that somehow, I could find a way to get his attention and maybe I would stand a chance to be with him. But every time I got close to him, my spine would shrivel up and I could hardly string two words together.

The first night Hermione invited us to meet with them in the pub had been excruciating. And damned Daphne forcing me to sit with him had just made things worse. My stomach had been churning - with both nerves and desire - before I had arrived, and being so close to him had made me infinitely more uncomfortable. And that discomfort, of course, had made me overly sensitive to his remarks. I knew he had been joking, but I was on edge and I snapped.

But then as the weeks progressed, and as I spent more time with him, I discovered that he was charming, and funny, and I loved that on occasion, the nervous, fidgety boy I first knew would appear and he would get flustered and stumble over his words. And my discomfort at being around him turned into a constant aching need for him. His green eyes were simply too much to look at without imagining him staring at me while he-

Ginny cleared her throat. "Parkinson?"

" _Huh_?" I looked up at her, startled, "What?"

"I was asking you about Harry," she said with a touch of humour in her voice. "I was wondering what you were doing about him."

"Why would I be doing anything about Harry?" I tried to act nonchalantly, but she didn't buy it.

"Please do not try to tell me you're just friends." She patted my knee, "I've been spinning that story about Blaise and I for months, and we all know that's complete bullshit. So, tell me what's going on."

I put the parchment I had been reading on the coffee table, and sighed heavily. "Nothing's going on."

"Okay," she said slowly, "Let me rephrase that; what do you _want_ to be going on?"

I shrugged, unable - or perhaps more accurately, unwilling - to actually talk to her about this. But she just sat staring at me expectantly.

I let out a frustrated huff. "I can't talk to you about this. It's hard enough to talk about it with anyone, let alone you. You were his girlfriend, for Merlin's sake."

"Was his girlfriend. _Was_. I was sixteen, when we got together, not even eighteen when we split. And that was four years ago." She rolled her eyes, "You'd think we'd been together for twenty years the way everyone reacted. We were still children." She looked at me thoughtfully, "Nothing more than sloppy snogging and some very inexperienced groping happened between us, and that was it. Harry Potter doesn't carry my virginity around as a badge of honour, if that's what you're thinking."

"Oh, _ah_ , no. I wasn't..." It had been exactly what I was thinking, and her admission stunned me. "I just assumed that the two of you, _ah_ , would have."

"Sixteen," She said again, "And that's way too young in my book. Also," she added with a grin, "I don't plan on emulating my mother."

"Fair enough," I laughed. "But wouldn't it be weird for you though? Seeing him with me." I winced and then added, "If he even wants to be with me."

"No, not weird at all. It was going to happen one day. And it's not like I haven't seen him with anyone else." She smiled reassuringly at me. "But he hasn't been seriously interested in anyone else until now."

I looked down at my lap to hide my smile. Her meaning was obvious. "So, you wouldn't have a problem with it then?"

"No problem at all," she said, "Now, stop being pathetic. You're Pansy Parkinson. If Harry Potter is who you want, then go and get him."

"Are you sure?" I asked her once more and she held up her hand to stop me from saying more.

"I am sure," she said and then a slow smile crawled across her face, and I could practically see the wheels turning inside her head. "The poor bastard has no idea what's coming, and I can't wait to see just how well he handles Pansy Parkinson."

* * *

 

"Potter."

"Parkinson."

"Are we doing this?"

He turned from where he was leaning on his elbows at the bar to face me, "Are we doing what?"

I stepped closer and tugged on his tie, "Are we leaving right now, going back to my place, and fucking each other until the sun comes up?"

My words had stunned him, I saw it in his eyes, but to his credit he managed to keep his face passive.

"Holy shit," Blaise chuckled from behind him, "That's one hell of a question."

I ignored him, my eyes firmly trained on Harry. I watched him, hoping I hadn't gotten the signals wrong, hoping that he hadn't been cruelly messing with me. Hoping that Ginny hadn't been cruelly messing with me.

"You're not going to ask me to dinner first? We're going straight to fucking?" He was fighting the smile that was curling his lips.

I shrugged one shoulder, "You can eat something first, if you want."

Hermione made a choking sound beside me, her hand clapping over her mouth, and I winced away, waiting for her drink to come out of her nose, but she managed to keep it together.

Harry lifted his glass to his lips, swallowing the remainder of his drink in one go, his eyes not leaving mine as he did. "When you say 'until the sun comes up' do you mean until the sun comes up tomorrow, or on _Monday_ morning?"

"Monday morning it is then," I reached for his tie again, dragging him towards me, mirroring his grin with my own. "Let's go."

We both headed for the door, our friend's faces a picture of stunned shock. Ginny, however, winked as we walked past her, her face filled with amusement.

"Have fun kids!" I heard her yell as the door swung closed behind us.

"How long, Parkinson?" Harry asked, the grin still plastered across his face.

"How long what?"

"How long have you been pining for me?"

I wrapped my arms around his middle, pressing our chests together. "Funny, I could ask you the same thing."

My heart skipped a beat as he pushed my hair back from my face, "So, a while then?"

"Don't let it go to your head, Potter."

His hands moved to my arse, pulling me hard against him and leaned in, his lips just a breath away from mine, "My head isn't the problem."

My breath caught and I didn't have time to respond before he disapparated us into his house.

"Hey!" I said and slapped his chest, "This was supposed to be my house."

He shrugged, "Meh. Your house. My house. We'll be naked no matter what."

"But can we be loud?" I asked, "Doesn't Ron live here with you?"

He grinned, "Ron doesn't spend an awful lot of time here anymore."

"Daphne?" I asked.

"Daphne." He agreed.

We stared at each other in silence, our eyes holding in the dim light of the hallway. I felt lost in his eyes, alight and vibrant green, the colour of fresh, new leaves, and my head was suddenly filled with images of him over me, naked and sweaty. My legs began to tremble and slow shudder ran down my spine when he lifted his hand to caress my cheek.

"May I kiss you, Pansy?"

"Please," I breathed out, my heart rate increasing as he drew me to him and I felt the heat radiating from his body.

His eyes never left mine as he leaned in, and without thinking, I fisted his shirt and met him half way. His lips brushed over mine and my eyes fell closed. His mouth was gentle, just a featherlight press, and his lips felt like heaven against mine. Relief washed over me; I had finally found exactly what I needed.

He pulled back quickly and my eyes flew open, a small whimper escaped from my mouth.

_Please don't let that be it. Please don't let him hate kissing me._ I would die if he told me he had made a mistake.

He saw the panic in my face and a slow, teasing smile curled his lips, lips I wanted back on mine, and in a split second we were in his bedroom and I was tumbling backwards onto his bed. He pulled his glasses off, shoving them onto the nightstand, and toed off his shoes, pulling mine off at the same time. Then he was crawling over me, burying his face in my neck, his tongue instantly finding my thumping pulse and swirling over my skin. I clutched at his shoulders, gasping. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I was supposed to be in charge. I was supposed to be crawling over him. I was supposed to be licking his skin and driving him wild.

And I hated to admit it, but I had thought he would be shy, would be tentative, would fumble his way through this. But holy shit! How wrong I was.

His hand ghosted across my collar, finding my breast, and I arched into his touch as he squeezed me roughly. I gasped again when his tongue trailed a hot, wet path along my throat and his teeth bit down on my earlobe.

"Do you like this, Pansy? Do you like my hands on you? Do you like me touching you?" His voice was low, almost a growl against my ear.

"Yes," I panted, not even sure where my voice was coming from. I had never heard myself sounding so needy. I shifted beneath him, my skirt rode up and he dropped his hips to mine, the hard press of his cock between my legs pulling another gasp from me. "Yes... _oh_! Fuck yes."

"Pansy," he groaned as my hands gripped his arse and I ground my hips into his, "Slow down. We've got all night."

"No," I growled and tugged his shirt from his trousers, "I want you naked, now."

"No." He said and gripped my hands, holding them above my head. "I want to take my time with you. I want to memorise every inch of you."

"Yeah?" I growled again, "Well, I want you naked. I want you under me. I want to fucking ride you all night until you can't remember your own name."

His eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped, " _Ah_ , okay then."

I closed my eyes, "Too much?"

"No," he leaned down and kissed me, then rolled off me, "If that's what you want, have at it."

Turning my head to look at him, our eyes met and we both burst into laughter. I threw my arm over my face, "Sorry."

I felt his hand squeeze my hip, "Don't be. I like how honest you are."

"Yeah, but my stupid, honest mouth made the sexy times stop."

"We're not stopping." The bed dipped as he shifted and then he was pulling my arm away from my face. "But, do you want to control this? Because I don't care if you do. If you want to, _ah_ , ride me," his mouth twitched, "go ahead. I assure you, my ego will not be bruised."

"I _thought_ I wanted to control this, but this is..." I rolled to my side to face him and ran my hand across his cheek, "I'm fucking as nervous as hell."

"Nervous?" He covered my hand with his, "Why are you nervous?"

"Well, you're the Chosen One," My face grew hot again as I said it.

He snorted a laugh, "Meaning...?"

I groaned and rolled to my back, flinging my arms across my face again. "You're laughing at me."

"Of course I'm laughing at you," He uncovered my face, "Because you're being ridiculous. This is not the Pansy I've come to know. The Pansy I know is a force of nature. The Pansy I know would ride me until I forgot my name, then she would remind me who I was, _and then_ she would do it all over again."

He was right. I _was_ being ridiculous. If he was any other man, he would have been devoured and spat back out by now. But he wasn't just any man. He was Harry Potter. He was the Chosen One. His name had been known almost from the time of his birth.

"I _am_ being ridiculous," I admitted, "But you're Harry Potter."

"And you're Pansy Parkinson." He touched my cheek, "It's my name. That's all."

"Yeah, you're right." I sighed, nodding, and pushed at his chest. He fell easily back on the bed, smiling at me. I moved to climb over him, but my skirt stopped me. I reached behind me, but it was so twisted, I couldn't find the zipper. "Fuck! This is ridiculous."

Harry sat up, shook his head and rolled off the bed. He stood and held his hand out to me. "Let's start again."

"Please," I took his hand and let him help me stand. I straightened my skirt, and held out my hand. "Pansy Parkinson."

He took my offered hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing my fingers, "Harry Potter. And it is my absolute pleasure to meet you Ms. Parkinson."

"Oh, believe me, the pleasure _will_ be yours." I said with an easy smile. His offer to start again seemed to have dislodged the nervous tension inside me and everything that was stopping me from going after what I wanted suddenly disappeared.

I reached behind me, finding the zipper and lowered it, letting my skirt fall to the floor. I lifted my hands to the buttons on my shirt, slowly sliding each one free, watching as his pupils dilated and his breaths grew deeper as my skin was slowly revealed. I shrugged it free from my shoulders and let it slide down my arms and drift silently to the floor to join my skirt.

He stood staring at me, and I applauded myself for my choice in underwear. A simple pink lace bra that barely held my breasts in, and a tiny matching thong. His eyes travelled down the length of me and then back up.

"I think you're right. This is already pleasurable." His hand came up to my breast and his fingers traced the edge of the lace, raising goose bumps on my skin.

Circling his wrist, I slipped the button free on his shirt cuff, lifting his hand to kiss his palm.

"I want you naked, Potter." I leaned in, hovering my lips close to his, lifting my hand to work the buttons on his shirt, "I want you under me. I want to ride you all night until you can't remember your own name."

Tracing his fingertips up and down my arms, he whispered, "I want you naked, Parkinson." His breath had become mine, our lips brushing in a tease over each other. "I want you over me. I want you to ride me all night. I only want to remember your name."

I dropped his shirt to the floor, and took him in. The dark smattering of hair on his chest, his smooth bare stomach. The dark trail leading from his navel to...

_Shit._

The outline of his cock was pressing hard against his trousers. I had fantasised about this moment for far too long for it to even seem real. This was Harry Potter, half naked and hard, for me. I stared at him for the longest time, and when I thought my heart was going to burst through my chest, he took my hand and pressed it to his stomach.

"Are you going to finish getting me naked?"

Sliding my hand lower, I curled my fingers around the tip of his cock, stroking him through his trousers until he groaned at me to _hurry the fuck up_. I freed the button, and pushed them and his boxers to the floor, wrapping my hand around him when he sprang free. His skin was soft over the hardness beneath it, he was so warm, so thick and heavy in my hand.

"Get on the bed," I ordered in a low voice and he chuckled, leaning in to kiss my throat.

"Pansy Parkinson ordering me around," he hummed against my skin, "I could get used to this."

"Wrong, Potter," I gave his cock a rough squeeze and he grunted. "You _will_ get used to it".

He nipped at my shoulder then pulled back to look at me, his eyebrow arched, a huge grin on his face. "I'm yours tonight, Pansy," He took a step back and lay on the bed. "Do what you want with me."

"Wrong again, Potter." I said, smiling back at him and reaching behind my back to unclasp my bra. I dropped it to the floor and then added my knickers to the pile of clothes at my feet. "Tonight is just the beginning."

I stepped towards the bed, but he held his hand up and propped himself up on his elbows.

"Fucking hell." He blew out a breath and sat back up, moving to the edge of the bed and looking me over once more, his eyes heavy with desire. "Pansy, look at you... _Fucking hell_."

My stomach fluttered and my skin grew hot under the weight of his gaze. His eyes were so intense, staring at me like he'd never seen a naked woman before. He reached out to trace his thumb over my hip and I closed my eyes at the feeling, trying to remain calm, but the already heavy ache in my stomach grew, spreading downwards and settling between my thighs.

"You are so beautiful," he said in a quiet, almost reverent, voice.

_Beautiful?_ _Harry Potter thinks I'm beautiful?_ _Well, fuck_. That was something I never imagined hearing.

His fingertips skimmed across my stomach, moving slowly, and when his tongue slipped out to wet his lips, I was done for. I leaned down and kissed him, hard and deep, feeling like I had waited my whole life for the touch of his lips on mine. He had kissed me already, but this kiss, _this_ kiss, where we were both naked and wanting was somehow different, it was more, it was... _fuck_! It was Harry _kissing_ me.

And then, _oh_! It was Harry _touching_ me.

His hand slipped lower, his fingers touching the curls that led down to my core. I took great pride in how looked, keeping myself neat and trimmed, but I hated to be completely bare. I looked nervously at his face, biting my lip; I couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"Sorry, I should have waxed."

"Don't you fucking dare." He looked at his hand, and then back up to me, "You're a woman, Pansy, so be a woman. And don't think for one minute that I don't love this."

He teased his fingers across me, almost tickling through the soft hair, and then landed his thumb on my clit, circling slowly. I gasped and dropped my forehead to his as he gently pushed his finger inside me, and with his thumb pressing on my clit and his finger moving inside me, I almost came on the spot.

"Pansy," his voice trembled and I pulled back to look at him, "I want you."

I straddled his legs, pressing hard against him and trapping his rigid cock between his stomach and my soaked core. I kissed his jaw, licked his neck, sucked on his ear lobe. I felt the exhale of his breath, a sound so filled with relief my heart skipped a beat. The persistent voice in my head that had been telling me he wasn't really into me, that he was just playing me, vanished with that sound. I knew he wanted this, _clearly_ he wanted this; I had been worried for nothing.

His hands curled around my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh and urging me to move. I pressed my knees harder into the bed and then ground against him, the skin between my legs so slick I slid easily over him.

Ducking down, his mouth found my nipple and he closed his lips gently around it. I sighed, continuing to move, dragging my clit over the hard length of him while his mouth and tongue and teeth sucked and licked and bit me.

I shuddered and he looked up at me, "Alright?"

"Yeah." I breathed and he reached between us. I rose up on my knees and then looked down to where he was holding his cock ready for me to take in. I slowly exhaled and sunk down over him, watching as he disappeared into my body.

He grunted when our hips met, and I circled his shoulders with my arms, pressing our chests together, and burying my face in his neck.

_Holy fucking shit._

Harry's cock was inside me. His body was naked and pressed to mine. His hands were warm and strong, gripping my hips as if he never wanted to let me go.

"Pansy?" He murmured and I hummed against his throat, this felt too good to respond with words. But evidently, he wanted something more. He ran his hands through my hair and gently tugged my head back, looking directly at me with those beautiful green eyes and my heart squeezed.

"Harry?"

"Please don't break me, Pansy."

_Don't break him?_ He was shattering me from the inside, and he was worried about _me_ breaking _him_?

"I won't, I promise," I touched his face, "I couldn't."

He smiled and leaned into my hand, "You already are."

"Harry," I began to pull away from him," "I don't want you to do this if-"

"Look at you," he whispered, holding me in place. "I never thought I would have someone like you. You're beautiful and smart and confident. You know what you want and nothing stops you from getting it. If you ever walk away from me, Pansy Parkinson, you will break me."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. We'd only just started and he was already fearful that I would walk away. I shook my head and carded my fingers through his messy hair, dragging my thumb over the scar on his forehead. "I've waited too long to just walk away from you, Harry Potter. You're stuck with me now."

"Okay then," he smiled, relieved, and kissed me almost like his life depended on it. His hand lifted to my breast, gently tracing his thumb around my nipple, so taught, so sensitive, and he swallowed my tiny cry.

I began to move, circling my hips over him as he thrust up from beneath me, and the overwhelming sensation of being with him, of having him naked beneath me, of him touching my breasts, my hips, my thighs, crashed over me and I threw my head back and cried out, my orgasm tearing through me before I could stop it.

He let out a surprised "fuck" when he felt me tighten around him. His arms circled me, holding me tightly against him as my body slowly calmed.

"Sorry," I whispered against his ear.

"For what?"

I huffed out a breath of air, embarrassed, "That was too quick."

He leaned his head back to look at me, and laughed, "You're sorry you came too quickly? Don't be, I'm rather proud of myself right now."

I shook my head and laughed with him, "Is this what it will always be like with you? Serious one second, joking the next?"

"Pretty much," he said, and circled my waist with his arms, lifting me and shifting further back onto the bed. "You make me a little bit crazy."

I covered his body with mine, surrounding his head with my arms and kissing him. All the years I spent watching him and wanting him, and he was so much more than I could have ever imagined. Funny and serious, nervous and confident, a constant look of confusion on his face, but he knew everything that was going on around him. A complete contradiction, but in his own way, simply perfect.

His hands drifted slowly up and down my sides, while I continued my assault on his mouth, my tongue sliding against his, mouth moving, lips parting and pressing over and over, and for a moment I was sure we were the only two people in the world.

With a moan, I pulled my mouth away from his as his hands gripped my hips and he thrust up into me, the movement reminding me of what I had promised to do to him. I sat up, running my hands across his chest, and smiled down at him.

"There she is," he said with a smile of his own, his hands sliding from my hips to spread across my stomach "There's the wicked temptress I've been waiting for."

"Wicked, huh?" I slid slowly up his length and back down again. He swore, and darted his eyes down to where we were joined. I repeated the movement, letting him watch the wet slide of my body over his. "How wicked do you want me to be?"

"Fuck," he groaned, "Just keep doing that."

"This?" I asked and moved slowly back up, holding just the tip of him inside me.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and let out a frustrated growl, gripping my hips again and urging me to move.

Grabbing his wrists, I pulled his hands away, leaning over him to stretch his arms over his head. "Uh-uh, Potter. No touching. You want wicked? Then wicked is what you'll get."

"Pansy." My name was a long, drawn-out groan, as I slid back down him.

"You like that, Potter?" I sucked on the skin where his neck met his shoulder.

"Yeah."

"Do you want more?"

He nodded, "Yeah. So much more."

I sat back, tracing my hands over his shoulders, across his chest and down to his abs, and began to move slowly, leisurely, grinding in tiny circles, drawing low groans from deep within his chest. His jaw dropped open and he breathed out a long, shaky breath of air. He lifted his arms, and then stopped, looking up at me.

"I need to touch you." He swallowed hard, "Please?"

I ran my hands back up his chest and reached for his hands, bringing them back to my hips and holding them there. He exhaled my name, and I moved again, this time harder, riding him like I had promised; sliding up and slamming back down. His hips rose to meet me and I wanted to tell him no, that I was in charge, but the look in his eyes stopped me. It was a look of desperation, of need, of his want to break his promise to let me take control and flip us over and fuck me into the mattress.

Leaning forward, I braced my hands beside his head. "I like being on top of you." I told him, "I like watching you like this."

He groaned again, cursing at my sudden change in movement. I began rocking my hips back and forth in a frantic motion, chasing the feel of him, chasing the almost painful pleasure that was growing in the place where we were joined. He sat up suddenly, capturing my breast between his lips, sucking my nipple, grazing it with his teeth. And then he was talking, mumbling words against my skin. How warm I was, how wet, how slippery. How fucking good I felt around his cock. And then his hand was between us, touching me, urging me on with his fingers and his words.

I moved faster, harder, squeezing him with my thighs and digging my fingers into his shoulders. My breathing sped up and my heart pounded. I was close, so fucking close, and with his fingers working me, touching me like they had done so forever, and his mouth on my breast, it was all too much.

My back arched and my face titled towards the ceiling, my body still frantic over him as I cried out, loud and untethered, a pleasure so raw, so numbing, ripping through me. White light flashed behind my closed eyes, intense and blinding, and I gasped for air, my body convulsing and clamping down hard around him. I felt him steady me, felt him kiss the skin over my heart, and I slumped forward, burying my face in his neck.

He held me tightly and then rolled us, hovering over me, waiting until I came back down from my orbit.

"Okay?" He whispered, brushing my hair from my face.

_Harry Potter was over me, balls deep inside me, after giving me the most intense orgasm I had ever expected, and he was asking me if I was okay?_ I was far from okay. I was completely overwhelmed, completely losing my ability to keep a thought in my head.

I simply nodded, and he smiled, meeting my lips with his, brushing over them in a sweet, gentle kiss, before he began to move. His chest slid across mine, his shoulders bunching as he moved up and back, hard, forceful thrusts that had him pressing his mouth to my neck and grunting with every breath.

I gripped his hips and pressed my heels into the backs of his thighs, letting my legs fall wider and giving into his need to fuck me with the urgency that I knew had taken him over.

Speeding up, he gripped my hair, his body heavy, the weight of him, I was sure, was stopping me from floating off into oblivion. He worked harder, faster, pushing himself deeper inside me, over and over until his entire body tensed, and he groaned my name roughly into my skin.

His body grew even heavier as he exhaled, settling onto me, his mouth pressing wet, panting kisses along my jaw until his lips met mine. We kissed, slow and hot and breathless, his hands in my hair, mine sliding slowly up and down his back. He whispered my name against my lips, a quiet, gentle sound that had me holding him tighter against me, wanting him to stay right where he was.

Sex. We'd had sex. We'd had hot, breathless sex. We'd had the kind of sex I had only ever fantasised about. The kind of sex I had only ever read about in books that I hid discretely in the back of my bookshelf. Hot, hard, frantic, screaming sex with the man I most desired in the world - a fairy tale, if there ever was one.

"Okay?" I whispered.

"Yeah," he whispered back, his voice thick. He lifted his head, His face was red from exertion, his hair was a sweaty mess, "But I think I almost passed out."

I laughed, making him groan. He was still buried deep inside me, still hard. He pulled back, and I thought he would collapse beside me, but he surprised me, pushing back in until our hips met again.

"You feel too good." He groaned, "I don't want this to stop."

"How are you still hard after coming like that?" I blurted.

He looked down between us, watching as he slid in and out of me. I followed his gaze. We were a mess. I had come hard, he had come even harder. So how he was still so thick and heavy boggled my mind.

"It won't last much longer." He shoved back into me, covering my body once more with his and lifting my head to meet his open mouth.

I closed my eyes and simply felt. Felt his mouth, his tongue, his warm body, his cock inside me. My body was exhausted, my limbs were heavy, and I could feel myself drifting. Our kisses had become lazy, our mouths simply resting against the other, and I felt him start to soften inside me. He let out a quiet groan and shifted off me, the cool air hitting my sweat covered body and startling me back awake.

"Sorry," he said as I shivered and grappled with the bedcovers, wrapping them over my rapidly cooling skin. He shifted closer to me and reached behind him, pulling the covers over him and cocooning us against the cold. He touched my cheek and smiled, "You alright?"

I nodded, "Perfect. You?"

He kissed me, "About the same."

We lay staring at each other, and I lifted my hand to touch the scar on his forehead, faded considerably, but still the defining mark which made him so recognisable. I ran my finger along its shape; the jagged kick of the lightning bolt over his right eye, hidden for most of his youth under his dark hair.

"Why did you always hide this?"

He smiled, "It became habit, I guess. My Aunt always made me cover it up, so it was just what I did. Also, having everyone stare at me everywhere I went was not as much fun as it sounds."

I nodded, understanding, then traced my finger across his eyebrow and around the curve of his cheekbone. "Can you see without your glasses?"

"Well enough," He told me, "It's a little blurry, but I can see you."

I looked back up at his scar, "What was it-" I stopped. My question may have been too hard for him to answer.

"It was painful at times, like a headache that burned. And then there were the times I could see him, or sense him. And those time were probably the worst."

"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

It was his turn to touch my face. He cupped my jaw and ran his thumb across my cheek, "You _should_ ask. Anything you want to know, please ask me."

I nodded and looked at him thoughtfully. "Did you like it?"

He frowned. "Did I like having an evil wizard in my head?" I shook my head and his frown deepened, "Then wha- _oh_."

One hand curled around my hip and his face broke out into the widest smile I had ever seen and I asked him again, "Did you like it?"

"I loved it," He said and pulled me closer to him, "You, Pansy Parkinson, are a phenomenon, one of which I plan on learning all there is to know."

I reached my arm around him, sliding my fingers slowly along his spine, "I think you learned quite a bit about the phenomenon just now."

"You naked and raw and riding me? This was just one small part of you," He lifted my leg over his hip, "I plan on taking my time in learning all about you. This was just the start."

I couldn't have stopped my grin if I tried. "So, this is a thing then? You and me?"

"You and me," He said, "Parkinson and Potter. Officially a thing."

"Good," I whispered, "Because I like this thing very much."

He squeezed my thigh and smiled, "I like it too."

* * *

 

***** HARRY *****

* * *

 

Hermione was watching her hand on Pansy's belly closely, saying nothing, just staring. She had a frown on her face, not quite knowing what to make of it. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop the laughter. I didn't think I had ever seen Hermione look so confused.

"Grang-" Malfoy began from beside me, but Hermione held up her other hand, telling him to hush.

The silence stretched on, until finally she looked up, her eyes wide. "Yes?"

Pansy nodded, "Yes! You felt it!"

"Oh my god! Pansy!" Hermione hugged her and pressed her hand back to Pansy's belly, "There _is_ a baby in there!"

Pansy laughed at her, "I certainly hope so. Otherwise I might have some explaining to do."

I beamed at my wife, my chest constricting and my heart feeling like it would explode. Our friends all ribbed me relentlessly at how much I worshipped her, and even more so now that she was pregnant. But I didn't care. She was carrying our baby, and in my eyes, that made her the most precious being on the planet.

And the pregnancy perks they weren't yet aware of were just another reason to fall at her feet. I didn't think it possible to love her more than I already did, but as her body changed and her belly grew, as our baby made its presence known, she had become softer, curvier, and even more beautiful. But best of all - although I would never admit it to her out loud - her tits were phenomenal, drawing my attention - and my hands - each and every day.

And while it seemed that everything in our lives had begun to change, nothing really had. Still the one woman - the only woman - who turned my head. She was still a force, still spoke her mind, still went after whatever it was that she wanted.

But there _was_ one thing that was about to change. My friend, my confidant, my 'sister', was about to have her world rocked. Malfoy had approached us to get involved in scaring the crap out him, which we all eagerly jumped at. His planed proposal put the rest of us to shame, but their weekly dates had become an epic adventure not just for them, but for all of us. And since Hermione loved him with every fibre of her being, I couldn't really hate him.

He glanced over at me - the two women were oblivious, too busy fawning over Pansy's belly - and he grinned. Ron and Daphne were holding back their smiles, lest they give him away. And Blaise had turned towards the door, giving the impression he was waiting for Ginny to arrive, but in reality, it was to simply hide his own amusement.

Draco schooled his face, and I watched as his eyes narrowed and he managed to make himself look completely terrified at Hermione's excitement.

"You look like you're about to faint, Malfoy," I chuckled, "Do you need some water?"

He scowled and pretended to ignore me, his eyes firmly trained on Hermione. He gripped the back of his neck and took a deep breath, and I had to look away. It was too much, and his performance was making it hard not to laugh.

"Draco?" Daphne said, her face a picture of concern. "Are you okay? You're very pale."

"Who's very pale?" Ginny was looking directly at Malfoy as she sat beside Blaise, and he kissed her cheek, forcing her to look away from him.

Malfoy tugged at his tie and blew out a breath, "I think I need some air."

Hermione stood when he did, and we all turned in our chairs to watch as she grabbed his arm and followed him out the door.

"She'll say yes, right?" Daphne asked, "Because it'll kill him if she doesn't"

"She'll probably kill him for doing this," Ginny shrugged, "But, yeah, she's definitely saying yes."

"She's saying yes," Pansy agreed, "And I know she doesn't think he's ready for this," She nodded down to her belly, "But I'm sure if she told him she was, he'd get her pregnant tomorrow."

She was smiling at me, rubbing her hand across her belly, her face glowing.

_My_ Pansy.

I never imagined my life being like it was. I never imagined being married to a whirlwind like Pansy Parkinson. She had turned my life upside down, every day was an adventure with her, but every time she kissed me, it was still like it had been that very first time.

And I suspected it always would be.

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to the lovely LaBelladoneX for helping with this one; reading, correcting and telling me not to panic about attempting to write main characters outside of Dramione. 
> 
> And much thanks to everyone who asked me to write Harry and Pansy’s story. Comfort zones are nice and cosy, but that little space outside of them is an amazing adventure.


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